Mono a Mono
by alynwa
Summary: The next installment in Season Six. Alan reaches a decision about taking a case and new health concerns arise.
1. Chapter 1

Denny looked up from his men's magazine when he heard Alan come into the study where he was sitting. "Hey. Where've you been all morning?"

Alan flopped down on the couch opposite his husband and replied, "Running errands with Dave. We got gas, dropped off and picked up dry cleaning and picked up some groceries Olympia wanted."

"Uh – huh. Anything to avoid calling Sheila."

"No!"

"Um, _yeah!"_

Alan blew out a puff of air in exasperation. "All right! You know me too well, Denny. Her request for me to represent her was the first thing on my mind this morning. I just don't know what I'm going to do. She's a friend, but from a very different time in my life. I…I don't know if I want to go back there again." He stood and walked to look out the window. "I've always prided myself on my loyalty to my friends. They were always the family I chose as opposed to the family I was born into, but now…"

"But now," Denny interrupted, "_I'm _your family and your first loyalty is to me. Or, it should be."

The younger man looked at him quietly for a few seconds before replying, "It is. Maybe that's why I'm struggling with this. What do you think I should do?"

"_Definitely _try to have sex with her; she looks like she could be in this nudie mag." He tossed the magazine aside. "Beyond that, I guess it wouldn't hurt to hear the details of her problems. If you want to help her after that, fine. And even if you don't, you might be able to give her some advice."

Alan nodded and then pulled his phone from his shirt pocket. He had saved the number she had included in her email. After two rings, she answered. "Sheila, it's Alan. It's eleven – thirty now; are you available for lunch at one o'clock? Do you remember where Marceau's is? Great. See you then." He grinned at his husband as he replaced the phone in his pocket. "'Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred."

Denny grunted. "Never heard you quote 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' before. But not to worry; you have what they didn't."

"Which is?"

The older man puffed up like a peacock. "Me, of course! Denny Crane!"

Alan began to take his leave. "I'm taking the Bentley. I should be back no later than five. See you later."

He actually arrived at Marceau's before Sheila did and was able to secure a table in a fairly secluded section. _I haven't been here since Jerry and I met for drinks.* _He ordered a beer and accepted two menus while he waited for her. Approximately ten minutes after he arrived, he saw her enter the front door dressed in a black pantsuit with a white blouse over which she wore a black cashmere coat. She glanced around quickly, smiled as she caught his eye and walked to where he was seated.

She removed her coat and draped it over a chair before sitting. "Hi. I was starting to think perhaps I wasn't going to hear from you right before you called." She signaled the waiter for a beer and picked up a menu. "I'm starving. I hope the burgers here are as good as I remember."

The waiter took their food order when he brought over her beer. Alan watched him walk out of earshot before speaking. "So. Tell me what's happening."

"Remember in my email I said I had been living out of state for the last few years?" She continued after he nodded. "That's not the _complete _truth. I _was_ living in New Hampshire for five years in beautiful, peaceful Berlin. It's a small town, but there was room for an attorney of wide – ranging talents and I was able to fit in and make a home and build a practice. Things were going really well; so well, in fact, that I decided I no longer needed to take my meds."

"And how did that work out for you?" Just then their food arrived and Alan waited as Sheila attacked her burger and fries.

After taking three huge bites of her burger and washing it down with some fries and Coke she answered, "At first, things were fine. God had started to speak to me again, but I knew if I let anyone know that, I would have problems. So, I didn't tell anyone and I only spoke to Him when I was home alone. The problems began when I started feeling like maybe I _should _tell my clients what God was telling me. I even tamped _that _feeling down for a long time. Things came to a head when I had a husband and wife in my office preparing their wills and when I read the husband's, God told me that he was holding out on his wife and I had to tell her."

Alan took a draw from his beer, partially to hide his expression, and replied, "So, you did."

"Yes, right then. I said he was leaving money and property to his mistress and their child. As you can imagine, the wife became enraged and cursed her husband out before storming out, all the while screaming she would divorce him and strip him of every cent he had."

"Was that true? What you said about the husband?"

"Unfortunately, no. I must have misunderstood God. I could have _sworn _that was what He said to me." She shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, that created quite a fuss and a scandal in town. By the time the wife began to believe her husband, he was furious about her lack of faith in him and her threats to take him to the cleaners, so _he _filed for divorce. They both accused me of ruining their marriage. I was looking at a lawsuit and possible disbarment. I told my father about my troubles and when I admitted I was not taking any medication, he begged me to return to Massachusetts and then promptly had me committed when I did. That was eighteen months ago. I was released last month because under Chapter One Hundred Twenty – three, Section Thirty – five of the General Law, he couldn't have me held any longer, but now he wants to be named my conservator and handle my life. Alan, it's bad enough he was doing it while I was committed, but he doesn't want to stop. Please, help me."

While she had been telling her story, Alan had been pushing his salad around the bowl. He wasn't feeling very hungry to begin with and listening to her was further killing his appetite. "Sheila, are you taking your medication again?"

"Honestly?"

"If you don't mind."

"No. I don't _want _to take them. I like being able to hear God. Why doesn't anyone seem to understand that?"

Alan lifted his right hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, he just felt very tired. _God, if you can hear _me, _please give me the right words to tell this lunatic that I don't want her case. All I want to do right now is go home. _"Sheila," he said as he reached over and gently took her hand, "the best help and advice I can give you is: Take your meds. Has your father told that he would stop pursuing his case if you did?"

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "How do you know that? Has my father spoken to you? He has, hasn't he?"

"I swear to you he has not. I don't know the man, but he sounds to me like a concerned father who is worried about his daughter's state of mind. I am your friend, Sheila, but I agree with your father; therefore, I cannot take your case. You need to take your medication. Please understand."

She leaned back in her chair and simply stared at him. Just when he was starting to feel hot from the intensity of her gaze, she broke eye contact to reach into her purse for her wallet. She threw enough money onto the table to cover lunch and the tip.

"I invited you. Let me," Alan said as he signaled for the check.

"No!" she snarled loud enough for people a couple of tables away to hear and look their way. "This is a small price to pay for the great Alan Shore's time. God told me not to come to you; that you wouldn't understand. I thought I knew better." She stood and snatched her coat off the chair and threw it on. "You are definitely _not _the man I knew years ago." And with that, she turned around and flounced out the restaurant.

Alan used the cash to pay the bill and prepared to leave. He decided to stop in the Men's room first. When he walked past the closest occupied table, one of the three guys sitting there said to him, "Man, you dodged a bullet there! That's a good-lookin' woman, but that bitch is _crazy!_"

Alan replied as he kept moving, "You have no idea."

*ref. "On the Same Page"


	2. Chapter 2

Rodeo opened the front door for Alan who handed him the keys to the Bentley. "Thank you. Could you please ask Dave to put the car in the garage? And do you know where Denny is?"

The Major Domo held out his arm and gestured for Alan's coat. As Alan draped it over Rodeo's arm he said, "The elder Mr. Crane is in the kitchen."

When Alan walked in there, he expected to see Denny micromanaging Olympia, the cook. He was pleasantly surprised to see Denny sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen with a cup of tea reading the Boston Globe while Olympia was cooking undisturbed by her boss. They both looked up when they heard him walk into the room. "Hello, people," he greeted as he sat down next to Denny.

"Hello, Alan," Olympia responded, "Would you like a cup of tea or something to eat?"

"No, thanks. I just ate lunch."

Denny looked up from his newspaper. "So? How did it go?"

He shrugged, put his elbows on the countertop and his head in his hands. "The short answer is: I didn't take the case. She wasn't happy about it, but I couldn't, Denny. She's not taking her medication and she needs to take it. I agree with her father on that count."

"Yeah, you can only deal with one nut at a time," Denny joked as he rattled his paper and turned the page.

"What a terrible thing to say! You're talking about my husband and I don't think that remark is funny at all." He started to shake his head and thought better of it as he was beginning to feel the onset of a headache. "What are you up to the rest of the afternoon?"

"I figured I would sit here and finish reading my paper and then head over to the study to do the crossword puzzle. After that, I really do have some things I need to discuss with my lawyer. What about you?'

"I have some law journals to read. I'll probably just hang out in our bedroom unless you want me to sit in on your conversation with Victor Travers."*

"Not necessary; there's some heir property issues I have to attend to, no big deal."

"Okay, you know where I'll be if you change your mind."

Denny flipped another page. "Great, I'll see you later, then." He watched Alan leave the kitchen and thought, _I'm surprised he didn't insist on sitting in on my meeting with Victor. _"Oh! My favorite show has a new episode tonight!"

BLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBL

It was seven – forty and Denny decided he would head up to the bedroom, get undressed and watch TV in bed. He hadn't seen Alan since they had spoken in the kitchen hours earlier. He had sent Rodeo to tell him dinner was ready, but he had returned to say that Alan wasn't hungry and to go ahead and eat without him.

He walked into the bedroom to find that Alan was already in his nightshirt and under the covers with his hands behind his head watching TV. Alan watched with mild interest as Denny put on his pajamas. "There was a time," Alan opined, "when I thought the very _idea_ of being in bed before eleven o'clock was absolutely ridiculous. Now, I'm so glad I'm an adult so I can get in bed whenever I want."

Denny fixed himself a drink. "Would you like one?"

Alan shook his head slowly. "No, thank you. I'm glad you came upstairs; I guess seeing Sheila today took more out of me mentally than I thought. I'm exhausted. I just want to curl up next to you and pretend to watch television."

Denny laughed as he got into bed. "You are such a girl!" He propped himself up with pillows and said, "Come here. When I'm ready to sleep, I'll slide us down."

Alan slid to Denny's side and Denny put his arm around him. After a few seconds, he moved his hand to Alan's forehead. "You're hot! You have a fever, Alan."

Alan closed his eyes for a moment. "That explains why I feel so dragged out. I must be coming down with a cold."

The older man reached for the intercom on his nightstand and called Rodeo. "Please bring me a thermometer and a cup of tea with honey and lemon. Alan isn't feeling well." He hung up and hugged Alan again before wondering aloud, "Do you think iron deficiencies are contagious?"

Alan moved back to his side of the bed. "No, but you _do_ raise a good point. What if what I have is contagious? Maybe I'm coming down with the flu. I should go sleep in the guest room." He started to get up, but was stopped by Denny grabbing his shoulder.

"So you can be alone and miserable? Not on my watch! Besides, I got my flu shot so I should be fine."

Just when Alan was about to remind Denny that he had gotten a flu shot the same day, there was a knock on the door followed by Rodeo entering carrying a tray on which there was a teapot, two mugs, honey, lemon wedges and spoons. He placed the tray on the table and fixed the tea the way he knew Alan liked it. As he handed it to him he asked Denny, "Would you like a cup also?"

"I'm good, thanks." He took the proffered thermometer Rodeo withdrew from his pocket and said, "Before you drink that, stick this under your tongue."

"Denny, I really don't think this is neces…umph!" Alan sputtered as his spouse jammed the thing under his tongue.

A minute later, he removed it and pulled out a magnifying glass from his nightstand drawer so he could read the result. "Ninety – nine point eight."

Alan snorted, "That's hardly a fever. Tomorrow's Sunday. I'll relax and let Olympia and Rodeo take care of me. Monday we're going to see Dr. Forrester to get your blood test results. If I still feel under the weather, I'll ask him to look me over. Will that satisfy you?"

"Maybe. Drink your tea."

Alan looked at the mug on his nightstand and grimaced. "I'm going to pass. I had some water earlier. I'm just going to go to sleep."

Denny grunted his disapproval. "Rodeo, please take the tray and his mug. Leave the thermometer. Good night."

"Goodnight, Denny. Alan."

After Rodeo had been gone for a few moments, Alan rolled over to look at Denny. _I have to tell him what's going on._ "I have a confession. I haven't eaten since breakfast. I started feeling unwell when I was with Sheila. I thought the fact that I had no appetite for lunch was because of my stress level at listening to her story, but I haven't had an appetite since. Hopefully, I'll feel better tomorrow. I wasn't going to mention it, but since my temperature is elevated a bit, I wanted to tell you, especially since I made you promise to always tell me when you don't feel well."**

Denny held out his right arm until Alan moved back into his normal sleeping position. "I'm glad you told me. We're the Cranes! We don't keep secrets from each other."

"Right."

Moments later, Alan's breathing evened out and Denny knew he was asleep. He turned off his lamp and grabbed the remote to lower the volume. Gently, he rubbed the younger man's back as he prayed silently, _God, please. Don't let him be really sick._

*Denny's longtime lawyer, first introduced in "Married for Real"

**ref. "Happily We Move Along"


	3. Chapter 3

Carl and Shirley were sitting at their kitchen table with cups of coffee and the Sunday paper spread before them. It had been a good weekend so far. They had spent Friday evening at the Cranes and all day Saturday running errands and puttering around the house. It was ten o'clock in the morning, the breakfast dishes were in the dishwasher and they had planned on doing nothing more than lazing about the house.

The ringing of the house phone jarred them from their quiet state. Carl went to answer it. "Hello? How are you? Yes, she's here. Hold on." He handed the phone to his wife. "It's Edwin Poole."

She took the phone hesitantly and after taking a deep breath, spoke into it. "Edwin! How are you? Really?" She stood and started pacing as her conversation continued.

She had moved out of Carl's earshot. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to sipping coffee and reading the paper. _If it's important or interesting, she'll tell me._

After approximately fifteen minutes, Shirley came back into the kitchen. "Good luck, Edwin. Take care. Yes, we'll speak soon." She hung up the phone and sat back in her chair. "Do we have any Bailey's?" When Carl nodded _yes, _she asked, "Could you please get it and pour like half the bottle into my coffee? I need a drink."

Carl retrieved the bottle, dumped out her cold coffee, poured a good – sized dollop of cream liqueur and topped it off with fresh hot coffee. "There you go. Now, what did Edwin say that called for alcohol?"

"He's decided to accept the Chinese's offer to be bought out of the firm, but allow them to keep his name on the door."

"What?"

"He said the money they're giving him outright plus the yearly stipend to keep his name will allow him to spend time with Nathaniel."

"Who the hell is Nathaniel?"

"Remember that 'lovely' young Black boy he brought to Thanksgiving? Turnip Graves was his name, but now that Edwin has formally adopted him, they decided his new name should be Nathaniel Edwin Poole."

"Sounds a helluva lot better than Turnip."

Shirley finished her coffee. "It does. Edwin says he's thrilled to finally have Nathaniel permanently and that his son is already calling him 'Dad' and 'Pops.' Edwin said that his son's education thus far has been substandard, so he's decided to work closely with him to bring his grades up so he can attend a good college eventually. He said he doesn't have the time or the inclination to deal with Paul Lewiston or the Chinese, so he's taking himself out of the game. Which leaves me. Little. Old. Me."

Carl came to her and hugged her around the shoulders and kissed her temple. Straightening up, he stated, "You are not old. Not by a long shot."

"I'm too old for this nonsense. Carl, I don't _like _what the firm has become. I've made up my mind: I'm opening a new practice. You can stay at Chang Poole and Whoever if you want to, because unlike Edwin, I _am _taking my name off the door when I go and I'm asking Jerry and Katie to come with me."

Before Carl could respond, the wall phone began to ring again. _Oh, what fresh hell is this?, _Carl thought as he picked up the receiver. "Hello? Yes, Denny, she's here. By the way, I'm fine, thanks for asking. I _know _you didn't ask, I was being sar…Oh, never mind." He handed the phone to his wife.

Shirley took it and said, "Denny, this really isn't a good time. What? How sick? Since when? Fine, fine, I'll come over. Denny, don't. Calm down, I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Denny, try not to worry. I'll be there as soon as I can. Bye." She hung up the phone and looked at her husband. "Denny started crying. He said Alan is sick and he's terrified it's serious, but Alan doesn't want to go to the ER. I'd better get dressed."

"I'll go with you."

An hour later, Shirley and Carl arrived at Denny and Alan's house. Rodeo took their outerwear and led them into the living room where Denny was pacing. He looked up as they walked in and Shirley was shocked by how old and haggard he looked. "Omigod Denny! You looked terrible! How is Alan?"

"Stubborn and sick. Go talk to him, Shirley. Please. This isn't how things are supposed to go. Tell him that. Please."

"All right, I'll go right now."

"Turn right at the top of the stairs and the bedroom is the second door to your left."

Carl watched Denny pace some more after Shirley left the room. When he moved to sit down, the older man turned his way. "Have you eaten breakfast? Would you like a Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I can have Rodeo make one for you."

"Oh, don't worry about me, Denny. I'm good."

Denny snorted, "I'm not worried about you! _I'm _going to have Rodeo make me a Bloody Mary and I was just being polite."

"Figures," Carl mused. "Sure, why not, I'll have a Bloody Mary, too."

Shirley entered the master bedroom to find Alan lying in bed with the covers pulled up around his neck. He opened his eyes at the sound of the door and remarked, "I _must_ have a fever. Shirley Schmidt Sack is standing in my bedroom in…" He raised his head to get a better look. "Tight – fitting jeans and a lovely white blouse with no husband in tow."

"I can assure you I am not a hallucination."

"Pity. I figured that out when you didn't get naked and climb in here with me the moment you realized I was awake. To what do I owe the pleasure of you being here?"

She came alongside his bed and placed her hand on his forehead. "You do feel a bit warm." She picked up the thermometer from the nightstand, shook it down below normal and popped it into his mouth. "To answer your question, you scared Denny because you won't go to the ER." She pulled the thermometer to check it. "One hundred point four. That's not _too _bad."

"I know. I'm achy, tired, I have no appetite and the sunlight hurts my eyes. Last night, I looked up my symptoms online and I think I might have mono."

"_Really?" _Shirley blurted out. "I would have thought you would have contracted 'kissing disease' in college like the rest of us. It's generally a younger person's disease. Why do you think that's your problem?"

She noted with surprise that he had begun to blush. "You haven't heard everything that happened to Denny and me last New Year's Eve. At one point, there were some college – age women in our company. There…might have been some fraternization."

"I'm sure I don't _want _to hear everything. I do want to know if you have shared your 'diagnosis' with Denny because he is very upset. I came here as fast as I could because he broke down on the phone with me."

"No, I didn't. Denny was crying?" When Shirley nodded, Alan ran a hand through his hair. "Stay, please, Shirley," he said as he reached for the intercom. "Rodeo, could you please ask Denny to come upstairs? Thank you." He stretched out on the bed. "I want you to be my witness."

A few minutes later, Denny walked into the room. "Did Shirley talk you into going to the ER?"

"Denny, sit down. I want to talk to you." He waited while Denny came to sit next to him. "Shirley took my temperature and it's one hundred point four, which is not problematic. Not really. I should have told you I think I contracted mononucleosis New Year's Eve. I remembered you telling me you had mono in law school and everything I've read pretty much says you only get it once so I wasn't worried about infecting you. I've never had it. There's really no treatment for it; just plenty of rest, liquids and acetaminophen for at least two weeks. Dr. Forrester can confirm it tomorrow with a blood test. I'm sorry I scared you, Denny, but there's nothing to worry about, I'm certain."

Shirley chimed in, "Alan's right, but even if it isn't mono, he really isn't so sick that he has to go the hospital today."

The older man stood and hugged Shirley. "Thank you for coming. I'll see you and Carl out."

"No, Rodeo can do it. Stay with Alan." She began to take her leave and then remembered something. "Denny, I didn't mention this to Alan because I wasn't sure what you meant when you said, 'It's not supposed to go this way.'"

"Nevermind, it's not important," he replied gruffly, "Tell Carl bye for us and we'll talk to you later. Thanks again."

After she had gone, Alan patted the bed next to him. "Come stay with me. I want to talk to you."

Denny hesitated, but then he moved to lie next to Alan. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to know what you meant by telling Shirley it's not supposed to go this way. What way were you talking about?" Alan watched as Denny's face reddened and tears filled his eyes. Moving so that he could place his arms around the older man he whispered, "Denny, what's wrong? Tell me. Please!"

To his shock, Denny broke down completely. "You can't die before me!" he wailed, "You can't!"

Alan held Denny quietly and rocked him. "Denny, listen to me. I'm almost positive this is just mono and Doc Forrester will confirm it tomorrow."

"Yes, this time! _This_ time! But what about _next _time?"

"Denny, Denny, Denny," Alan soothed as he thought, _We're going to have to deal with this fear._


End file.
